


his majesty's me day

by Kazura



Category: Disgaea (Games)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, F/M, Fluff, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25913341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazura/pseuds/Kazura
Summary: Laharl still doesn't really get the point of birthdays and birthday parties, but Flonne continues to be persuasive, in her own Flonne way.
Relationships: Furon | Flonne/Rahāru | Laharl
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	his majesty's me day

He stares at the bulky package in his hands. Wrapped a little clumsily, with far too much tape, Laharl's not entirely sure what to make of it.

Blinking, he tries to come up with something to say, but the day has been all so very stupid that the events leading up to his current situation had likely numbed his head.

There was Etna dragging him all over the place on the pretense of a surprise inspection of the nearby villages, and Sicily shoving far too many sweets into his arms before they went, and even Xenolith bringing along a big five-tier lunch box that's more appropriate for New Year's instead of the normal yet still admittedly very scrumptious lunch that he often lugs around whenever he tags along in their outings. The latter two are all well and good in theory, except he felt stuffed as hell after lunch and couldn't walk without every step being a pain afterward that Xenolith ended up taking out every rock in his pocket in a panic until he found his medicine box while Etna called Laharl a big baby as he accepted and popped the stomach ache meds into his mouth.

All that on top of receiving an exploding jack-in-the-box with far too much confetti in lieu of an alarm clock from Evil Academy first thing that very morning. There was already way too much excitement that day that it's gone to the point that stringing together anything clever to say has become far too herculean, even for someone as great as him.

He's blaming Etna. And Sicily. And Xenolith. And maybe even Barbara and Florence and every single one of his more outspoken vassals. He's willing to bet that Mao's in on the whole thing just to mess with him, too, as he's wont to do whenever he's bored out of his mind. For fuck's sake, he's got an academy to run and way too many new video games that he hasn't even touched yet. How does he even get the time to get bored?

But Flonne has only just arrived, and she's still herself, and it momentarily makes him forget everything else that happened that day. She's still Flonne, even if she's pulled her hair back in a braid and her wings have gotten a little larger. Even her magic, warm and soothing like a blanket, is familiar to him, the feel of its presence always a surefire way to send stupid tingles running down his arms and dancing in his gut. It's ridiculous and he's not gonna admit it to anyone, but there's no doubt that it is her, right there, with a sheepish smile on her face as she rocks on her feet.

It's not the first time he's seen her since she left again for Celestia. She's poked her head back into the castle before, with Etna dragging her into full view once she spots Flonne, and they spend most of the day in some cheerful girl talk or whatever about all the sweets that Etna's gotten to taste and how she set some aside for Flonne and how she had to kick some dumbass "right there" to get the last of the available stock. Flonne would beam and gasp at the appropriate moments, until there isn't much time left before she has to leave and Laharl has to wrestle his way between them to drag Flonne away for his turn.

It's different today. Instead of hogging Flonne all to herself like the selfish imp that she is, Etna just grinned and presented him with an all dressed up Flonne—with more frills than usual, if that were possible—as soon as Flonne arrived that afternoon, mere minutes after they've stumbled back from a day of...whatever that is. Xenolith offered the term mingling and catching up with his vassals, but the concept made him wrinkle his nose. 

"It's your special day, Prince," is all Etna had for an explanation as she gave Flonne what looked like a gentle push. With only a parting wink, she then promptly hooked her arms with Xenolith, who gave his king a nod of acknowledgment as any good vassal should, and with Sicily, who waved cheerfully at Flonne and gave her a thumbs up. Etna dragged them away just like that, and neither protested, as if whatever Etna said were law and they didn't have the time ask him, their overlord, for leave.

Which brings him to where he is, looking at the package that Flonne thrust into his hands, then at Flonne, then at the lumpy thing again. He's not an expert, but whenever Xenolith or Florence gave him something that has quite the similar kind of feeling, bulky and at the risk of tearing through the paper, they'd always stuff it in a box first or just forgo wrapping and slip it inside a festive paper bag or something.

Eh. He's just gonna rip it apart in the end. Who cares if Flonne's just as clumsy as ever?

"I'm gonna open it," he says dryly, looking back at Flonne, just in case she has something else to say.

She doesn't. She just brings up her braided hair and hides the lower half of her face with it, as if it's gonna shield her from whatever's in her gift. Or from Laharl's reaction to it.

It makes the corner of his lips twitch upward before he could try to muster enough strength to bring it back down into the wry look he's been going for before. It doesn't work. So he just rips through the gift wrapper, tugging furiously whenever some of the tape gets in the way and letting the scraps of paper fall into the carpeted floor of the throne room. The Prinnies can take care of it all later. He has to...figure out what it is he's looking at at first.

"Uh." It's a folded flat thing wrapped in plastic. He feels like he might recognize what it is given enough time, but Flonne provides the answer for him.

"It's a pillow!" she says, before hiding behind her hair again. "Master Virunga taught me how to vacuum them for easier wrapping. And, and, I included some pillowcases."

Laharl pulls the plastic apart. Holding up the flat pillow with one hand, he shakes the pillowcases Flonne had included in the bundle in his other one. Huh. He thought they'd be frilly and full of hearts at first, as per her preference, but it's all red and sleek and devoid of any distracting designs. Not bad.

And as he were raising his eyebrows at the pillowcases, turning them this way and that to determine that, yeah, there really aren't any stray hearts or whatever anywhere, he catches the pillow in his other hand gaining volume.

"Um. I can fluff," Flonne starts, dropping her hair and reaching out to pat and stretch the pillow while it's still dangling from Laharl's hand.

He wonders what they look like at that moment. The remnants of her poor attempts at wrapping at their feet, him stretching his arms at full length to each side while holding up her gifts, and her trying to fluff up the pillow.

He snorts. Holds back a laugh. Then he hides his snickers against his upper arm.

"Laharl—"

The sound of Flonne calling his name, all too cautious, sends him laughing, his voice bouncing against the walls of the throne room and likely slipping through the gaps and letting whoever passes by the door hear his mirth.

"What's so funny?" Flonne demands, her cheeks a little red. "You like sleeping, so I thought—"

"Yeah, it's great," he says, grinning. "I accept your offering, Flonne."

"It's a gift," she corrects with a sniff, but she's back to rocking on her feet. "You, um, you like it then?"

He stares pointedly at the pillow, giving it a light shake. "I just said it's great."

She giggles. "I'm glad. I...I tried my best with the pillowcases, and I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with it, but it'd be nice if it'd be useful to you."

He peers back at the flimsy cloth. Brings them closer to his face for a better view. He didn't notice it before, but the stitches aren't even. It's better than her wrapping though, in that he doesn't think the threads would fall apart as soon as he uses them for maybe the fourth or the fifth time. He considers asking if they didn't have sewing machines in Celestia, but Flonne seems way too pleased at getting a positive reaction from him that he chooses to be generous, if only for that day and that one single moment with no one else around.

"Eh," he says. "I needed new ones. Old pillow's getting too thin anyway."

She beams, and he does the only thing that he thinks he ought to do in this situation, with her smiling bright and kind of maybe sort of pretty if seen from the right angle.

He heads for the wing that leads to his bedroom.

"Wait! Where are you going, Laharl?" Flonne says, hiking up her frilly skirts and scrambling after him.

"I'm gonna give these a test run," he says, shaking his gifts. "Perfect timing, too. Tell Etna that she's gonna get it in the morning for dragging me all over again today."

"You can't," she wails, wrapping her arms around one of his and freezing him in his tracks.

Danger, major. He was in no way prepared for that. It doesn't even occur to him that he can simply yank his arm away. Nah, he just stares at her slack-jawed. With her pressed as close to him as she is, he can smell the faint traces of flowers on her. Not a surprise, but she really is just that close.

Mouth dry, he croaks out, "And why the hell not?"

"Because everyone's waiting for you!"

"For what?!"

"Hnghh, don't make me say it!"

"Say what!?"

"Hnghhhh." She tightens her grip around his arm, as if her very life depended on keeping him from getting some well-deserved shut-eye, and he manages the most exasperated sigh he's let out in a while. Ever since that morning, to be exact.

"It's my—"

"It's your birthday!"

"Yeah," he drawls, hardly impressed.

"So, so, you gotta come down the main hall, because everyone's waiting, and everyone really wants to celebrate with you!"

"You lot don't have to celebrate it every single year. Have you forgotten how long our lifespans are? Skipping a year or ten's not gonna make much of a difference." Not that he's opposed to offerings. Or gifts. Whatever. The concept of birthday parties is just different. A sole day of celebrating the day he popped out into existence when they could just celebrate the fact that he does exist now and is already gracing them all with his presence every day? Isn't that more important and worthy of celebration? Imagine if it weren't him but some dumbass at the throne. The horror. They should all be grateful.

"But! But it's our way of thanking you for being born!"

"That's the stupidest excuse I've ever heard. Shouldn't you be thanking Mom instead then? She's the one who made me." Well, the old man "helped" or whatever, but Mom did most of the work, and, yeah, they'd all better be shouting praises in her honor. 

"That's not it! Hnghhh."

Does she think that wailing and gritting her teeth is gonna accomplish anything? Tough luck, Flonne. He's tired as hell, and her gift is perfect for the occasion.

"Nothing would be the same without you! And, and, we want you to know that! So we want to give you a special day to show you that you're loved and—"

"I can't believe you're saying that while still clinging to me!" he shrieks. It's embarrassing as hell! She gets embarrassed by the stupidest reasons, like her gift, which isn't even half bad, but then she'd turn around and spout all this nonsense without even batting an eyelid. Seriously, what the hell, Flonne?

"But it's true!"

"By that logic, shouldn't it be everyday then?" he says with a scoff. "Celebrate me day everyday."

"I, I don't know if it will still feel special that way... But! That's what I feel! You're special and I'm super glad that I met you and that we've become friends and I want to be with you and celebrate this day with you! Especially now that I can't always see you everyday anymore! And, maybe, I mean, I think that's really my fault, but it's still a reason why I really, really want to celebrate today with you, Laharl!'"

He can't see his face—there aren't any mirrors in the throne room—but he's pretty sure his face is as red as it can possibly get, if the heat he's feeling is any indication. If she says anything more, he's pretty sure he's done for, really.

"And I really missed you, too, so...."

And there it is. That's a finishing blow, if any. He can't very well tell that he felt the same thing because he doesn't and it's lame and who knows where Etna's hidden cameras are.

He considers his options. Hiding out in some other Netherworld? Meaver wouldn't let him, that traitor. She'd ring her tiny bell and Florence would come rushing to her side. Running away to his bedroom? Flonne still had her arms around his. It's even more dangerous if he reaches his room and she still hasn't let go. Sleeping while standing up then? He doubts he can even feign falling asleep where he stood with Flonne standing right there though.

Great. Anything he came up with won't cut it.

"If I go," he says, slowly, carefully, as he deposits the pillow into the space within his scarf, his other hand still clenching onto the pillowcases, "will you stop shouting embarrassing things into my ear?"

"Mmm..." She tilts her head, then beams. "No promises!"

"Are you kidding me?!" he snaps, but she's already dragging him towards the far end of the throne room, out towards the main hall, where his annual party is apparently waiting.

Eating does sound nice. Sicily's cooking has been improving, and Xenolith's isn't bad either. He's just gonna have to pace himself. And not eat too much. And try not to embarrass himself because Etna definitely already has her camera out.

And, well, and this is a secret, and he's gonna send anyone to Hades with a single punch if they even got the notion of it, but Flonne's gonna go back to Celestia at the end of the night for sure, so it's probably better to savor what time he's got left with her before she leaves again.

She still hasn't let go, and he ever so subtly crooks his arm, as he's seen people with a lady at their side do, and she beams.

**Author's Note:**

> idk if nis just got the date wrong today or if they're changing it from the 18th to the 15th officially for some reason, but here's a quick thing
> 
> For more ways to find me, [here's my Carrd](https://artwaltzed.carrd.co/).


End file.
